


Come On

by thornfield_girl



Series: To Show That You're Home [6]
Category: Justified
Genre: Blind Date, Closeted Character, Coming Out, M/M, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-14
Updated: 2013-05-14
Packaged: 2017-12-11 20:44:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,146
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/803099
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thornfield_girl/pseuds/thornfield_girl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Art's wife knows a nice woman she's dying to introduce to Tim. Raylan thinks this might just be the push Tim needs.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Come On

**Author's Note:**

> I have no idea what Art's wife's name is, so I made one up. If this is a known thing, please let me know and I'll edit. :)

As usual on a Thursday morning, Raylan comes in late. Art is normally fairly indulgent, since he generally stays late on those days, but today he calls him into his office the minute he gets there. 

"Hey, Art," he says, putting his apologetic face on as he enters. He had been a little later than usual this morning, because Boyd had snagged him for a quickie second round just as he was finishing up in the shower. 

"Raylan, I am trying to be patient, but you seem to insist on testing my limits." Art taps his fingers on his desk and looks at him, eyebrows raised.

"Yeah... I'm real sorry, there was an unexpected delay," he says, willing the smile off his face.

Apparently, he's not entirely successful, as Art scowls at him and says, "I certainly do not want a detailed explanation, son, I just need you to tell me I won't see you drag-assing in here almost an hour late next Thursday."

"Absolutely." Raylan nods once, then turns to go.

"Wait a minute," Art says. "Something I wanted to ask you. You got plans this weekend?"

"Uh... not really," Raylan says warily, then kicks himself. He knows he should have just said yes. "I was gonna head down to Harlan, that's all."

Art looks slightly uncomfortable, but says, "Any chance Boyd might want to make the trip up here? He does that sometimes, right?"

"He does," Raylan replies, wondering what in the hell this could be about. "Why?"

"Well..." There's a pause, then he says, "You know the wife is on the board of a local historic landmark society, right?"

Raylan hadn't known, though he doesn't doubt Art has mentioned it, but he nods anyway. 

"There's a new member, a woman who just moved here who's a history professor at UK. She's only been here since September, moved down from Philadelphia, and she doesn't know too many people, so Anne was thinking of throwing a dinner together and asked if I might want to invite some people from work."

Art still looks uncomfortable, and Raylan can't imagine why. Of course, he is also having a hard time figuring out why Art's wife would want to invite a bunch of Marshals over to meet his wife's college professor friend. Surely there are faculty parties she'd be more comfortable at.

"Why do you want me and Boyd there?" he asks with a twinkle of amusement. "Trying to look diverse for Anne's new east coast friend?"

"Shut up, Raylan," Art said, glowering at him. "I wouldn't have asked you two hillbillies at all, except I'm trying not to make it obvious that what she really wants to do is set her up with Tim."

Raylan can't stop the laugh that follows this remark, and Art frowns at him. "Yeah, I know. I'm not too thrilled about playing matchmaker myself, but she's got a soft spot for the boy, and they are close in age, and God knows he could use a little help."

Raylan grins magnanimously. "You bet, Art. I'll call Boyd and ask, but I'm sure he won't mind. We'll be there with bells on." He winks, and adds, "Not literally, of course."

Art waves him off with an irritated air, but stops him once more just before he leaves. "Do not mention this to Gutterson, Raylan. Anne will kill me."

Raylan assures him he wouldn't, and that is a very safe promise to make, because he wouldn't miss this moment for the world. He's already looking forward to the look on Tim's face when he figures out what's going on. 

When Raylan gets back to his desk, Tim leans over and and says conspiratorially, "Art rope you into that dinner thing on Saturday?"

"Yeah," Raylan says, heaving a sigh, "he caught me on a bad day, couldn't say no. You better not be trying to weasel out of it, boy. Listen - we get through that, me and Boyd'll take you out for drinks after. Who knows, maybe you'll even get laid."

Tim gets a funny look on his face, like a little smile he's trying to hide, and looks away quickly.

"Something you want to tell me?" Raylan asks.

"No," Tim says shortly. Raylan just grins. He'll find out eventually anyway. Maybe he'll text Neil and grill him, he knows Tim is in touch with him, and that boy can't keep a secret for shit. 

He calls Boyd later that night to tell him. He hears night sounds - crickets, and occasionally the owl that nests in a tree just beyond the edge of their back yard. 

"You sittin' out back?"

"Yes, I am," Boyd says. "On the beautiful patio sofa you bought for us." Raylan can hear him smiling, and he can also hear ice cubes clinking in a glass. "Can't wait to see you sitting right here next to me, tomorrow night."

"Uh... that's what I'm calling about," Raylan starts.

Boyd interrupts him saying, "Nooooo, Raylan, come on. No no no, you have to come down this weekend. I planned things, baby, I bought food special."

Raylan sighs. "Can you stick it in a cooler and bring it up here?"

"Why?"

"Well, as it happens, we've been invited to a dinner party at Art's house on Saturday night, and I really do not think you'd want to miss it."

Boyd is silent, undoubtedly trying to figure out what possible reason either of them would have for wanting to go to a dinner party with Art and his wife. Finally, he gives up and says, "Explain."

"Seems the party is in honor of a new friend of Anne's. She's single, in her early thirties, teaches at UK, and Anne thinks she would be nothing short of a perfect match for-"

Raylan doesn't finish his sentence, because Boyd busts out laughing. He's still laughing as he says, "Oh, Raylan, this is gonna be some entertaining shit."

Raylan is grinning, pleased that he'd gotten the reaction he'd hoped for. Sometimes Boyd could be unpredictable, and he'd been a little bit afraid that Boyd would think he was being an asshole, delighting in the discomfort of others. 

"You're not gonna tell him, are you?" Boyd asks, his voice still full of mirth.

"Oh, hell no," Raylan says. "You kiddin' me? Personally, I'm hoping she asks him out at the dinner table and he's forced to come out in front of Art and Rachel and everyone."

"Art might be pissed at you for not giving him the heads up," Boyd says.

"Hey, it ain't my place to out the boy. Anyway, Tim's an idiot if he can't figure out what this dinner is about. Why else does a single guy get invited to a dinner party? He must watch Downton Abby, right?"

Boyd snorts and says, "What, you don't talk about it in the break room with him? You're more into it than I am."

"I believe Timmy would put that on equal footing to getting on his knees and sucking my dick in the middle of the office, in terms of exposure. 'Course, he's an idiot, because Anne makes Art watch it and he don't even try to pretend he don't like it, anymore."

"Well, now I'm turned on, Raylan," Boyd says, and he might be trying to make it sound like a joke, but Raylan can hear it in his voice.

"Really, that's all it takes? Well you can forget it. If you want to watch someone blow me, I'm sure that can be arranged, but it ain't gonna be him."

Boyd chuckles. "That works anyway, since i have to fly to Atlanta for a job Monday afternoon. I'll just stay in town until then."

They talk for a bit longer, and Boyd promises to have dinner in the oven when he gets home. 

They pick up a bottle of Knob Creek Single Barrel on the way to Art's house, and arrive a few minutes before seven. Neither of them wants to take the chance of missing anything. Art greets them at the door, and takes the bourbon with a grin of appreciation. 

"I believe I'll open this now," he says. "You boys care for a drink?"

It's clearly a rhetorical question, because he's already pulling out three glasses and opening the bottle. 

"So, the sacrificial lamb ain't here yet?" Raylan asks mildly. 

Art points his finger in Raylan's face and says, "Do not be an asshole," and hands him a drink.

Raylan's free hand goes up defensively, and he says, "I got nothing to say. I do wonder why you'd agree to participate in this business, though. Shit could get awkward."

"It's just a dinner. Whatever happens, happens."

The doorbell rings, and a minute later, Art's wife comes in trailing a tall, athletic-looking woman with long, curly auburn hair. She's attractive in an assertive way, with strong features and intelligent, greenish-brown eyes. In Raylan's opinion, she'd be way too much woman for Tim even if he were inclined that way. 

Art says hello and kisses her on the cheek, then says, "Rebecca, this is Raylan Givens, one of my deputies, and his partner, Boyd Crowder. Fellas, our friend Rebecca Miller."

They shake hands and say hello as Art pours a drink for her. 

"Art mentioned you're a professor," Raylan says. "I went to UK myself, but I can't say any of my teachers looked as good as you." He smiles flirtatiously, and she fixes him with a tolerant, mildly amused look.

"I wouldn't have thought I was your type," she replies. 

Raylan grins. "Oh, that's true, you ain't really. I generally prefer blondes, but I have been known to make exceptions."

Art raises his eyebrows at Boyd and says, "You gonna let him get away with that? My wife saw me flirting like that, I'd be paying for it the rest of my life."

Boyd winks and says, "Honestly, Art, you probably don't want want to hear about my usual reaction to watching him do that. Though it would be interesting to see you blush." 

Art frowns at him for a second as that sinks in, then turns a bit pink anyway. When the doorbell rings again a moment later, he wastes no time going to answer it. 

"That must be Tim," Raylan says, shooting a quick glance at Boyd, who looks away, pushing down a grin.

Rebecca looks sharply between the two of them and says, "Is something going on here?"

"Don't mind us," Boyd says. "We're just overly pleased with ourselves all the time. And Raylan's an asshole, but he can't help it, he was born that way."

She starts to reply when Tim walks into the room. Raylan gives him a big grin and says, "Timmy! Come on over here. This here's Rebecca. She teaches at the university. Rebecca, this is my colleague, Deputy Marshal Tim Gutterson."

"Tim's fine," he says, shaking her hand. "Nice to meet you." Raylan can see in his face that he's assessed the situation accurately by now. Art hands a bourbon to Tim, who takes it from him with a wary look. 

It takes a little while for conversation to pick up during dinner, but when Rebecca hears that both Raylan and Boyd are from Harlan, she immediately has lots of questions for them. 

"I teach about the history of labor disputes in the US," she says. "Harlan comes up a lot. Did either of you come from coal mining families?"

They look at each other briefly, then Boyd says, "Not as such, but Raylan and I were both in the mine for a brief time after high school."

"Really! What were conditions like then? That would have been, what, early 90s?"

"'89," Raylan says. "And they were dangerous. We were in a cave-in once. But to be honest with you, it ain't a topic I'm real anxious to talk about over supper."

"Of course," Rebecca replies, "I'm sorry. Well, I was originally going to ask how you and Boyd met, but I suppose that's been answered. You grew up together?"

"Sure," he says. "But we didn't see each other for twenty years, until he picked me up at a bar in Virginia." Raylan grins, because Art doesn't even know this story. "I was told he was dead when I came back to Kentucky, so you can imagine my shock when I saw him walking in the door. I had no doubt it was him, though. I mean, look at him. Don't no one else look like that boy."

"In Virginia? What were you doing there?"

Art breaks in here and says, "He was supposed to be consulting on a case."

Raylan looks at him and says, "I was consulting on a case, but it was the last night I was there and I was on personal time. And Boyd was living there, in Richmond, but I had no idea. It was just a coincidence."

"Some coincidence!" Rebecca exclaims. "What are the odds of just running into each other like that?"

Boyd smiles and says, "Well, who knows? I went to that bar a lot. They had a good reputation, probably good Yelp reviews. It's not a big stretch to assume he'd be in Richmond at some point, and considering his usual activity every time he got out of eastern Kentucky, it's not that surprising he'd have ended up there. But still. Yeah, pretty high odds indeed."

Art looks uncomfortable, and asks Rebecca how she's adjusting to life in Kentucky. Eventually he brings the subject around to work, and prompts Tim to tell a few of his more amusing stories. Everyone is drinking, but Tim more than anyone else, and Raylan eventually realizes there's no way he's going to allow him to drive himself home. 

The boy is flirting with Rebecca like crazy, and Raylan can only assume it's some sort of leftover reflex from when he was trying to will himself to be straight. He's beginning to think this whole thing is not as amusing as he'd originally imagined. 

Boyd catches his eye at one point, cuts his eyes towards Tim and looks back with concern. Raylan nods. As soon as dessert is finished, Raylan says, "I hate to break up the party, but I am just beat."

Boyd says, "Anne, dinner was delicious. Thank you so much for having us, we had a wonderful time. We told Tim we'd give him a ride home after." He pierces Tim with a stare and says, "You just about ready?"

Tim shrugs. "I'll be fine, I'll head out in a bit."

"Uh, Tim, I don't-" Raylan starts, but Rebecca cuts in.

"I'll give him a ride," she says. "If he wants to hang out."

Raylan tries to lock eyes with Tim, but he won't do it. He lets them slide over Raylan's face and waves a hand towards him. "It's cool," he says. 

Raylan's look turns to a glare, briefly, but he shakes Art's hand and kisses Anne on the cheek, and tells Rebecca it was lovely to meet her. 

Outside the house, Boyd says, "What the fuck is he doing?"

Raylan rubs a hand over his face. "Who the hell knows? I thought he was coming along, but obviously he's still got some shit to deal with. None of our business. You still want to hit a bar before we go home?"

Boyd shrugs. "Yeah, alright. But Raylan, if we're willing to sit there and laugh at the boy's discomfort, surely we should be willing to help him."

"Only if he asks," Raylan replies shortly, and gets into the car. 

The bar they usually go to is packed, but the bartender knows them by now, and they get drinks pretty quickly. Raylan's not sure how long he wants to hang out here when it's this crowded, and he's not up for Boyd's favorite game to tonight either. 

When he tells him this, Boyd says, "I figured maybe you wouldn't, after that conversation with whatshername. I don't want you feeling bad about that shit, though, Raylan. I might not have found you otherwise."

"It ain't that," Raylan says, leaning in close to his ear so he can be heard over the loud music and the din of conversation. "It's Tim. I feel bad, like I should have warned him. And he's so drunk, we shoulda pulled him out of there, Boyd. What if he fucks that poor girl?"

Boyd snorts and smirks at him. "That poor girl? Raylan, if I ever saw a woman could take care of her own self, it's that one. She ain't gonna fall head over heels for some drunk ass closet case. If she does try to fuck him, I'm thinking things will become clear in no time."

Raylan sighs and looks around. The place is filled with cute boys, most of whom are too young for him, and none of whom he'd choose over Boyd anyway. They all look the same to him. He puts a hand on Boyd's back and rubs up and down between his shoulder blades. 

A voice comes from behind him, saying, "What are you doing? You'll blow your cover!" They both turn to find their friend James standing there. Well, acquaintance, more like. They only ever see him at this bar, but since the first time, when Raylan pretended to try to pick him up, they've seen him several times. 

"We're just here for drinks tonight," Boyd replies. "No games."

"Are you here by yourselves?" James asks, his dark blue eyes roaming around the room like he's looking for someone. "Tim said he might be coming here with you."

Raylan's eyebrows shoot halfway up his forehead. "You talked to Tim? When was that?"

"Uh..." James looks confused. "Well, I talked to him yesterday, but I mean, we've gone out a few times. Did you not know?"

Raylan is irritated now. Tim playing coy about some guy is one thing, but he knows perfectly well that they know James - they had introduced him. That he wouldn't even mention it after "a few" dates with him is really annoying. And he really should be out at work by now, and what the fuck is he doing stringing some woman along? Jesus Christ. 

James is frowning at him. "Something wrong?"

Raylan shakes his head. "Nah. Tim had a little too much to drink at dinner and felt like he needed to head home. I'll tell him you asked about him. Or should I not?"

James shrugs. "Sure, you can tell him. I'm not trying to play games. I'm not really sure what's up with him, though. I thought he liked me, but he's being kind of weird about stuff. Maybe I should just back off."

"Maybe you should, for your own sake, son," Boyd says, scowling. "He's not ready."

"Being weird how?" Raylan asks. 

"Like I said, we've gone out a few times - we've had dinner twice and came here for drinks once - but he never wanted to go home with me or anything. But then twice he texted me on a different random night and asked if I want to come over and hang out, and both times I went to his place and he was drunk, and he came on to me, like really aggressively. The first time, I stayed and fooled around, I mean, I didn't know, I thought it was hot. But the next time I got a bad vibe from it, like desperate or something, so I left. And he's so cute and funny, I couldn't figure out why he'd be like that. And now this, him not even mentioning me to you guys? And then not coming with you - I bet it's because he felt weird about me being here." 

Raylan nods and glances at Boyd, who looks disgusted. He can understand why, and the whole thing makes him feel like shit. He says, "Boyd, I ain't really in the mood to hang out here anymore. You mind if we take off?"

"Yeah, okay, honey," Boyd says. Raylan tries for a smile, and they say good night to James. 

Raylan is quiet the whole ride back to the apartment. When Boyd tries to speak to him, he answers in single word replies, looking away as soon as he's spoken. Finally Boyd sighs and lets him be. 

They park, but Boyd doesn't get out right away. He leaves the keys in the ignition and leans back in the seat. 

"What are you doing?" Raylan asks, halfway out of the car. 

"I was thinking of driving back to Harlan tonight," Boyd says quietly. Raylan slides back into the passenger seat. "Don't see the point in staying if you're gonna be such a mopey bitch over shit that don't even have anything to do with us."

"Boyd- "

"No, Raylan, I'm fucking serious. This is stupid. You think Tim is like you were, is that it? You think I would have gone near you if you were?"

"Yes," Raylan replies, meeting his eyes. "You know you would have. You told me if I was fat and bald you would have taken me home. And I was a fucking mess, Boyd. I was, and you know it. You made excuses for me, in your head, because you wouldn't have been able to look yourself in the eye if you admitted to yourself how I was."

Boyd doesn't say anything for a long time. Raylan's not sure if he's trying to remember, or what. 

"You're right, I would have," he says finally. "You could have been like him and I would have still tried to help you. I fell for you such a long time ago, Raylan, you know that. But that ain't how it was. You surely were a mess, yes, but- "

"I had to get falling down drunk to come back to you that night- "

Boyd laughs. "Yeah, I remember, baby. But you weren't falling down drunk when you came home with me. You weren't drunk at all. You didn't need to be drunk to want me. It was the other feelings you couldn't deal with, but shit, Raylan. I could barely deal with those myself. _It wasn't the same._ Why do you keep beating yourself up over this old bullshit?"

Raylan shakes his head. "I was forty years old, and I was treating half of my own identity like some embarrassing secret, like- like a drug habit. When I was with men, I treated it like a business arrangement. I couldn't get out of there fast enough when I was done. I- "

"Stop it, Raylan," Boyd says. "You ain't telling me anything I didn't know or couldn't have guessed. Look, what do you want? Not reassurance, apparently. You want me to be disgusted with you? You want to make sure I know how pathetic you _really are_ , so you can be sure I actually love you?"

Raylan doesn't know what the fuck he wants. All he knows just now is that he's pissed at Tim. He says, "I'm being stupid, right? I know I am. I'm sorry."

"Jesus, Raylan," Boyd laughs. He sounds a little sad, and really exasperated.

Raylan leans forward slowly until his forehead is resting on the dash. "You weren't really gonna drive home, were you?"

Boyd huffs and says, "No." He unbuckles his seatbelt. "Come on." 

As Raylan is unlocking the door to the building, Boyd's phone rings. When he pulls it out and checks the display, he frowns in confusion. "It's Neil," he says.

"He's _calling_ you? I wasn't even sure he knew how the phone part of his phone worked."

"Yeah," Boyd says. He answers as they walk up the steps to the apartment. "What's up, kid? Uh huh. Really. What do you mean, 'weird'?" Boyd listens for a few moments, then sighs. "Alright... no, you were right to call. Yeah. I will. Bye."

Raylan lifts his eyebrows in a question, and for a second it looks like Boyd doesn't want to tell him what's going on. "What?" 

Boyd sighs and rubs his forehead. "Call Tim."

"What? Why?"

"He sent Neil some fucked up text about how he's freaking out because he's about to have sex with some woman and it's too late to back out. Neil tried calling him back but he didn't answer, and-"

"Shit," Raylan snaps. "That stupid asshole."

Boyd goes into the kitchen, takes out the bottle of Wild Turkey from the cabinet, and brings it to the living room with two glasses. When he comes back, Raylan says, "Why should I call him? You said, she can handle herself. He probably won't even answer."

Boyd shrugs and pours for both of them. Raylan sighs angrily.

"You know what," Raylan says, "you were right. I wasn't this messy."

Boyd laughs darkly. "Yeah, you would've fucked her because you wanted to, and called me after."

"I never did that," Raylan says. "I called you after I didn't fuck her. I called you because I was in love with you, asshole."

Boyd smiles. "I know. Now call him."

Raylan takes out his phone and looks at it for a moment before punching up Tim's number. It rings a bunch of times, then goes to voice mail. 

Boyd takes the phone from him and texts him with the message _You are an asshole. Call me back now, you stupid stubborn faggot._ He hands the phone back to Raylan. "There."

Raylan glances at the display and looks up with an affronted expression. "Hey! That's my phone, Boyd. I wouldn't have called him that."

Boyd grins. "Too late."

The phone chimes with a return text: _Fuck you._ Raylan holds it up for Boyd to see, then pulls it out of reach when he makes a grab for it.

"I'm through with this," Raylan says. "This ain't our business. Fuck me? No, fuck him."

Boyd nods. "You're right, honey, but I don't want to be up all night with you tossing and turning and being pissed off. Come on, we're going over there."

Raylan scowls at him, then gets up and grabs his jacket and hat. "I'm gonna kick his ass."

"Alright," Boyd replies, getting his own jacket. 

Raylan drives them to Tim's place, muttering the whole time, with Boyd interjecting occasionally with, "Mmhmm...yep...I know..." He knows Boyd is humoring him, but he's too pissed off to care. 

He pounds on the door of Tim's apartment, hoping he has the right one - he's only been there once - until the door opens a crack and Tim's face appears. "What the hell're you assholes doin' here?" he asks, slurring slightly.

Raylan starts to push his way in. "What do you think? You ain't living in a goddamn vacuum, Tim."

Tim pushes him back and into the hallway, closing the door behind him. "It's fine. I'm okay. Just go home and get yourselves laid and talk about what a pathetic jerk I am. I know you think you're better than me, you got all your shit figured out, but you don't know everything."

Boyd laughs harshly. "She's still here, isn't she? Boy, what are you doing? You know, we ran into a friend of yours tonight. He seemed to think you'd be with us. He's way better than you deserve, he's fucking gorgeous, and nice, and into you for some reason I can't honestly fathom, and you passed that up to come back here and _try_ to have sex with someone you have no interest in. You think that's okay?"

Tim stares at him, speechless and stricken. The door pulls open behind him, and Rebecca steps into the hallway, carrying her bag. 

"I only heard a little of that," she says, "but I think that's enough."

Tim glares at Boyd and says, "They're leaving. Don't go yet, we can-"

"It's late," she says. "I left my number, you can call me tomorrow if you want." She looks between Raylan and Boyd. "Nice seeing you again. You'll make sure he's okay, huh?"

Raylan inclines his head and touches the brim of his hat. "Sorry for the intrusion," he says.

"You're welcome," Boyd says, winking at her, and she laughs ruefully. 

When she's gone, Boyd opens the door and Raylan pushes him inside and guides him over to the sofa with maybe a little more force than necessary. Boyd goes to the kitchen for water while Raylan sits and grinds his teeth at Tim, eyes flashing. 

Finally, he says, "You want to do reckless shit, just fucking do it, don't put it on other people. What did you think Neil was gonna do from Richmond? Hop in the car and be here in time to suck your dick before you managed to get it inside her? Jesus Christ, Tim."

Boyd comes in with his water and hands it to him before sitting on the other side of him. Tim takes a sip, then sets it down and lowers his face into his hands. He's not shaking or sobbing, but after some time he sniffs, and it's obvious he's crying. It just pisses Raylan off more, but Boyd puts his arm around him and sort of pulls him in a little. 

"Hey," Boyd says, "it's alright." Raylan stares at him. He can't believe Boyd is letting him get away with this bullshit. Boyd just shakes his head at him, so he doesn't say anything.

"I don't know what I'm doing," Tim says. "I'm sorry."

"You didn't do nothing to me, Tim," Boyd says. "You want to say you're sorry, you call that woman tomorrow and tell her. Call up James and apologize to him. I'm not mad at you." 

"Oh God," Tim moans. "He probably won't even take my call."

"He probably shouldn't," Boyd says, "but he will. And then on Monday, you're gonna go in and talk to Art and tell him why he's not going to set you up on any more blind dates with his wife's lady friends. You're gonna feel so much better, I promise."

"Okay," Tim says meekly. 

Raylan rolls his eyes. "I told you that months ago, asshole."

"Shut up, Raylan." He sniffs again and sits up, turning to look at him. "And that was a really shitty text you sent me." Boyd stifles a laugh as Raylan presses his lips together grimly. He can't be bothered to defend himself.

"You shut up, it was entirely accurate," he says, not quite managing to go so far as to call him a stupid faggot. "If we leave, will you promise to go to bed and not drink any more?"

"Yeah."

"And text Neil to thank him, and do not under any circumstances call or text _anyone else._. So help me, I will hurt you."

"You're so full of shit, Raylan," Tim says, smiling weakly at him.

"Do I need to take your phone?" 

"No," Tim says. "I'll be fine." 

Boyd gives him a reassuring pat on the back and gets up. "Yeah, you will." He looks at Raylan, who pushes himself up from the couch, shoots Tim one more irritated glance and walks toward the door. 

"I'll say one thing," Boyd says, on the way through the parking lot, "if you're too tired for sex now, I'm going back in and kicking his ass myself."

Raylan grins, grabs him around the waist and tugs him in close. "I ain't ever too tired for you," he says, which is close enough to true for him to say it. He leans into Boyd's forehead and says, "You were too nice to him. I know that was for me."

"Raylan, I -"

"That was real sweet. Don't do it again. I don't need to be let off any hook. I don't want to be."

Boyd puts his hand up to Raylan's cheek and looks him in the eye. "Ain't no hook, Raylan, but the one in your own mind. You got to let yourself off that one."

Raylan sighs, and kisses him. "That probably won't ever happen. You'll still be dealing with my shit when we're 80."

Boyd smiles brightly and says, "I hope so. Now let's go, baby."

"You drive," Raylan says, pulling him in again and kissing him long and sweet, then handing him the keys.

He slides his hand between Boyd's legs as soon as they're in the car, and by the time they've made the ten minute drive through the empty nighttime streets, Boyd's pants are undone and so is he. Raylan loves to see him like this, it's so hot he can hardly stand it. 

"Baby, I want to fuck you so bad," Boyd says as he pulls into Raylan's parking space. He shudders as he says the words, like speaking them just made them real.

"Yeah," Raylan says, "I want you to. I want you in me, Boyd, I want it now, I can't fuckin' wait." He's speaking low and urgent, close to Boyd's ear as he leans over to the driver's side. Boyd groans and pushes him back. 

The steps from the car to their bedroom seem countless, but they hurry, and don't bother trying to be sexy or coy about getting undressed. They have a common goal, and they are single-minded in pursuit of it. 

They kiss, sloppy and passionate, as Boyd gets him ready, rubbing up against his leg as he works. He's panting for it, and Raylan thinks he doesn't need anything more than that knowledge to keep him hard. But Boyd's fingers are in him, and they're tantalizing, making him want to beg for more, which he finally does. He says, "Please, now, darlin," and Boyd whispers back, "yes." 

Boyd moans, a long, desperate sound as he slides into him. Raylan can feel it all through him, every place where they're touching. He knows Boyd, knows his body and the noises he makes when they're fucking, and what his face looks like when he's about to come, and all of it, everything. He's watched him. He loves him so much. Boyd is going slow, real slow, and Raylan knows that moan means he's got very little control. 

"Just hold still a minute, Boyd," he says. "Just look at me, alright?" He takes his cock in his hand and locks eyes with Boyd. "You're the best, baby." He strokes himself, slowly at first, then faster, still making eye contact. "Wait, just wait, in a minute you can..." He squeezes his eyes shut for a few moments, paying attention to the sensation of being filled up, stretched open, and when he opens them, Boyd has a funny look on his face. Raylan doesn't know what it means, doesn't care, but he says, "Okay, now, Boyd. Fuck me as hard as you can, come inside me, I want it. Give it to me."

Boyd's eyes open wide, and he looks suddenly determined. He pulls out a little and pushes back in, then a little further out and in again. 

"Harder, baby. Love you. Boyd... more. C'mon."

Boyd licks his lips and fucks him harder, then harder still. Raylan's hand is no longer touching his dick, and he's pretty sure he won't even need to. Boyd's angle is just right, and he's so hard, so ready. Boyd bends down to flick at one of his nipples with his tongue, rolling the other one between his thumb and forefinger, and Raylan's cock is trapped between them. He feels it coming up, feels it starting to surge, and he lets out a guttural cry, pulling Boyd tighter by the waist and jerking his hips up as his come spurts out between them. 

"Oh fucking fuck, Raylan..." Boyd comes hard, slamming into him and biting down on his shoulder. A whine turns into a growl, and then he slumps down on top of Raylan, hot breath in his hair. "Fuck, honey. God, I love you." 

Raylan lets his sweaty arm lay across Boyd's sweaty back, and turns his face looking for a kiss. Boyd obliges with a very gentle one, his eyes barely open. 

"We got to shower, Boyd. We're gonna feel gross in the middle of the night if we don't."

Boyd groans. "Just... washcloth. Okay? Wash the sheets tomorrow." He's already drifting into sleep as he finishes speaking. 

Raylan grins. "Okay, darlin'," he says. He gets up and showers himself, because he really hates getting fucked and waking up to come dripping out of him ten minutes after they finish. It's truly a disgusting feeling. 

He brings a washcloth back for Boyd, and pushes him over. Boyd squints up at him and makes a feeble grab for the rag. "Forget it," Raylan says. "I got this." He wipes Boyd's stomach and crotch down with the warm cloth, then throws it in the basket by the dresser. 

Raylan is utterly exhausted too, and it's such a relief to slip into bed. He mumbles a good night that he's sure Boyd doesn't hear, and sleeps deeply. 

They spend Sunday quietly, and on Monday morning Raylan leaves for work.

"I'll come meet you for lunch before I go to the airport," Boyd mumbles. 

"Okay," Raylan says, kissing the side of his face. "Call me."

Tim is at his desk when Raylan gets there, and he looks tired. Raylan hesitates, but walks over and leans on his desk. 

"Hey," he says. "You alright?"

Tim frowns deeply at him. "Like you care. Gonna call me more names?"

"For the record," Raylan replies, pointing at him, "Boyd was the one sent that text, though I stand by the sentiment. But I do care, Tim. You think I liked seeing you like that?"

Tim stands up and gets in his space, talking low. "You knew what Art was up to, didn't you," he accuses. "You could have warned me, you jackass."

Raylan puts his hands up and steps back. "Just because he wanted to set you up, don't mean you had to take the goddamn bait." His voice is as quiet as Tim's was, and just as pissed off. "You could've left with us and gone to the bar like you obviously planned to in the first place. But no, you decided to do what you thought was expected of you. That ain't my fault."

"Fuck you, Raylan," Tim says, stepping forward again, "You knew how things were with me, you should have known that would be a problem."

"I ain't your keeper," Raylan says, raising his voice a little now, because fuck this bullshit. "You're a grown man, you make your own choices. Why don't you stop making everyone else a player in your personal drama?"

Tim laughs, loud and harsh. "That is quite the statement coming from Raylan Givens," he says. "That's all you ever do. You and your fucked up, hillbilly Harlan bullshit-"

Raylan pushes him away, not too hard, but aggressive. "Get out of my face, Tim," he warns, and Tim steps forward again and pushes him back. 

People are watching now, and Art opens his door. "In my office now, Deputies," he says sharply. 

They both look up guiltily, and Tim stalks off with a huff. Raylan sighs and follows reluctantly. 

"Just what in the name of God was that about?" Art asks, crossing his arms, after the door closes behind them.

"Nothing," Raylan says through a clenched jaw. "It's done, don't worry about it."

Tim nods curtly. 

Art is looking at them in seeming wonder, and he says, "I have never heard such a load of shit in my life. I will not have two of my deputies fighting each other in the goddamn office. Now..." He pulls out his good bourbon and pours three glasses. He points at Raylan. "Tell me."

Raylan shoots a glare at Tim, then says, "Tim and I had a disagreement. Beyond that, it ain't for me to say. But I'm happy to let the subject drop."

Art scowls at him, then points at Tim. "If it's not for him to say, it must be your deal. So let's hear it."

Tim shakes his head. "It's personal."

"Not anymore, it's not, son. Not when you bring it into work."

Raylan can see Tim's conflict playing out on his face. He'd had a similar one, and he'd only been forced into coming out to Art when Boyd was shot, so it's not like he doesn't understand. It's so stupid, though, so pointless, he just wants to shake him. He stands with his hands at his hips, watching and waiting. 

Finally, Tim straightens up and shrugs, like he's throwing something off. He says, "I was angry with Raylan because he didn't tell me what you were up to at that dinner, with Rebecca. I felt like he should have warned me."

Art frowns in confusion. "That's it? You were pissed because he didn't inform you that I planned to introduce you to a beautiful, charming woman? Who, I believe, liked you very much and - at the very least - drove you home?"

Tim looks down. "Art, I appreciate the effort, but that has to be the last time you do that. I'm not comfortable with it. I don't..." He glances at Raylan. "I don't date women. I- I'm-" He licks his dry lips, and blurts out, "I'm gay. I'm sorry, I know this is probably weird for you, what with _him_ as well, and- "

Tim stops blathering when he sees that Art is wheezing with laughter. He stares at him and says, "What?" In a belligerently defensive voice.

"Now that's the spirit, son," Art says, still laughing. "Better than that weak ass apologizing. I was just laughing at the idea that this will somehow deter my wife from trying to set you up. She volunteers for the historical preservation society, Tim. Expect many more invitations to come. Also, I owe Rachel fifty bucks."

Raylan is trying to cover up his laughter with his hand, but not trying very hard. Art looks at him severely and says, "And you are an asshole, Raylan."

"Oh, I know," he says. 

"You know," Art says, a little grumpy now, "I might've expected this to happen to Dan Grant. Or Mike Tenney out in goddamn San Francisco. You know this office is gonna get a nickname. Just cannot wait to hear what they come up with." He's glowering at them, but it's just Art being Art. 

"Can we go now?" Raylan asks. 

Art waves at them and says, "No fighting in the office."

They head back to their desks without speaking, but when Art comes out a few minutes later and drops a few bills on Rachel's desk, Raylan risks a glance at Tim. He's red-faced, but smiling at least a little. 

"Don't expect me to thank you, you jerk," Tim says.

"You're welcome," Raylan replies. "Did you call your boy?"

Tim rolls his eyes and looks away, but he really is smiling now. Raylan figures that's answer enough, and anyway, he'll find out eventually.


End file.
